


self-fulfillment

by mandadoration



Series: satisfaction not guaranteed [2]
Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Degradation, Dom/sub, F/M, Intercrural Sex, Light Bondage, Mutual Masturbation, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Orgasm Denial, aka thigh sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-25
Updated: 2020-03-25
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:21:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23240887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mandadoration/pseuds/mandadoration
Summary: Things have been tense since the last time you handcuffed yourself to the Razor Crest, and definitely more so ever since Mando decided to punish you for it. Too shy to ask for help, you take it upon yourself to try and tamp down the desires that have been flooding you. Apparently, Mando does take too well with that either.
Relationships: The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)/Original Female Character(s), The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)/Reader, The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)/You
Series: satisfaction not guaranteed [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1671013
Comments: 11
Kudos: 197





	self-fulfillment

**Author's Note:**

> The much requested sequel to my first smut entertain! I never really anticipated that that particular fic would explode, but y’all really seem to like the quiet discipline that mando gives in this fic, so uh. Here it is. 

It had been a couple of weeks since you had handcuffed yourself to the ship, but every time you looked over at Mando, you felt your heart speed up and face flush at the memory of his large hand entangled in your hair, the feel of him hot and heavy on your tongue, and the calm but intimidating tone of his voice. You wondered what it would be like for him to sink that cock into your pussy. You had been so wet and so wanting when he had punished you, used you as if you were only a mouth for him to  _ fuck-- _

“--hear anything I just said?” Mando’s voice breaks through your thoughts. You snap to attention, turning red in embarrassment when you realize you had been staring blankly at Mando’s helmet. You think about lying to him. 

“No.”

You can’t lie to Mando. 

Ever. 

Mando just gives you a disappointed sigh that makes your shoulders curl in, and he turns back to the control board on the  _ Razor Crest _ . You pick at your nails. 

“Sorry,” you mumble. 

“It’s fine,” Mando says curtly. You’re not sure if that was supposed to be comforting to you or not, but it makes you more anxious than before, and you accidentally rip off some of the skin on the side of your nail, making blood well up. Frowning, you suck on your finger as you think of something else to say, trying to ignore the copper tang. Mando beats you to it. “What’s on your mind?”

“Um…” You wish you could lie to Mando. Can you maybe deflect? “What are  _ you  _ thinking about?” 

Not very well, it seems. 

The leather of Mando’s gloves creak as he grips the yoke tighter. It’s not like you can even make up an excuse to try and leave at this point. The child was set down for a nap less than 10 minutes ago, and it was too early in the journey to say that you were doing last minute checks before landing. You watch as Mando checks fuel gauges and rechecks the calculation for the jump, and you’re at least proud to say your stomach only flips once when the stars start smearing across the inky blackness of the universe. You’re  _ not  _ proud to say your stomach  _ drops  _ when he puts the ship on autopilot and swivels to face you. “Stay here,” he orders, and you’re frozen to your seat as he gets up and leaves the cockpit. 

Was this it? Was he going to drop you off somewhere on a semi-habitable planet for you to live out the rest of your days? Things have been a little awkward after  _ the incident _ , you won’t lie, but Mando hadn’t made any effort to talk to you about it. Then again, neither had you. You had instead subjugated yourself to thinking about him at night, playing with yourself with a hand over your mouth to muffle your noises, imagining it was his fingers instead of yours. Mando was a very hands-on person after all. You’ve seen him handle blasters and work on his armor before in the low-light, deft, calloused fingers make quick work of everything. You wish he would touch you. The thought of being stuffed full of his fingers makes you shift in your seat, and you grimace at how your panties stick to you.

You sigh and run a hand over your face, slumping further down in your seat as you play with the hem of your tunic. Now you’ve worked yourself over a fantasy. A fantasy of someone who was basically your boss. That... doesn’t bother you as much as you think it should. You purse your lips, and try to listen for any sounds. Besides the ambient sounds of hyperspace, the ship is silent. Maybe Mando’s gone to rest for a little bit before landing wherever he was going. You switch over to the pilot’s seat to read over the navi. At least 2 hours before reaching your destination. That was enough time. 

You lift up your tunic and clamp the hem between your teeth, unbuckling your belt and sliding a hand down your pants. You let out a content little sigh, slowly rubbing your clit in soft, small circles, occasionally dipping down to play with your entrance as your eyes flutter shut. It was a little humiliating that thinking of a man whose face you’ve never seen could get you riled up so quickly. So much so that you’re touching yourself in his seat. 

You turn your face a little, enough so that your cheek is pressed up against the leather of the back, and you think you can smell his scent. The metallic scent of his beskar armor, sunwarmed leather, and the fizzled smell of blaster fire. Sinking two fingers into your cunt, you try to imagine it’s Mando’s and not yours. You creep your other hand up your shirt, tugging at a nipple as you give an involuntary jolt, bucking your hip up into your hand, digging your palm into your clit as you curl your fingers. A soft whine slips through your lips. You release the fabric between your teeth. “Mando…” you sigh. 

“Yes?”

You gasp as the seat swivels around, and you’re literally caught with your hand down your pants as Mando looms over you, leaning in far into your personal space. “Don’t stop on my account,” he says, as his helmet so obviously tilts down. But you stay still, staring at him with wide eyes as a flush creeps up your neck. He cocks his head. “Maybe we need a little motivation.” 

Mando hauls you up, grabbing your wrist firmly and pulling it out of your pants, before he pushes on your shoulders until you’re down to your knees. Before you can think twice, he’s pulling out the handcuffs, the same one you had caught yourself in all those weeks ago, and cuffs your non-dominant hand to the pole next to the doors. “Wait, what--?”

“You seemed to be very… responsive last time you were like this,” Mando says, “and this way, I can make sure you can’t run.” 

As if you can go anywhere while the ship is in hyperspace. 

He steps back, makes sure you can’t get out, and takes a seat in the same chair you were touching yourself in earlier. “Show me what you were doing before I came in.” You swallow, tugging slightly against your restraints to test them. Secured. The familiar feeling of humiliation and guilt washes over you with every second that passes. 

Mando’s patience is already running thin, it seems, and he leans forwards, resting his elbows on his knees. “I won’t ask you again,” he warns in a low voice. 

You are already well-aware that Mando isn’t afraid to punish you for disobedience, so you kick off your shoes the best you can, and shimmy out of your pants, refusing to look up at him as you struggle. Luckily, your belt is already unbuckled, so you manage it after a few fumbles. Your underwear quickly follows. You shiver when your pussy gets exposed to cool air, and you reach a hand down again. When you glance up to finally look at Mando, you hesitate and nearly choke. 

He’s taken off his gloves and is lazily stroking his cock, legs spread as he watches you. Unlike you, he has no shame, and widens his stance. “Go on,” he goads, and you can’t take your eyes off of the sight as you sink two fingers into your fluttering hole.

In no time at all, you pick up where you left off, soaring closer to that edge as you watch Mando fist his cock. It’s dirty and obscene how you’re both masturbating right in front of each other, and even more so when you know Mando watching you rub your clit while cuffed gives you that edge. 

He was right. You were more responsive when you were tied up. 

You buck into your hand, giving pathetic little moans and whines as you coil tighter and tighter, fighting against your own limbs as you struggle to keep your legs spread open to make sure Mando gets an eyeful. 

“Ah, ah,” he tuts. “Don’t cum yet.” It takes some immense willpower to pull your fingers out, slick glistening on your fingers.

“But you said--” you protest. 

“I said to show me what you were doing before,” Mando says. “If I remember correctly, you weren’t cumming. Yet.” He stands up, and you would normally laugh at the fact his cock is still out of his walk wasn’t so predatory. If you did laugh, you’re sure that he would punish you in some fashion. 

On second thought, that doesn’t sound half-bad.

Mando makes a decision for you and grips the front of your tunic to haul you up, and the scrape of the cuffs against the metal of the pole makes you cringe, even more so when your bare ass meets the steel of the ship’s walls, but then he’s pressing his entire body against you, beskar and all, and you feel like you’re leeching off of his warmth. “Do you want me to fuck you?” he asks. You give him a slow nod. Mando puts a thumb on your bottom lip and pulls until your mouth parts. “Do you remember what I said last time?” he murmurs. He huffs a small laugh at your blank look, and leans in even closer. “I expect a verbal response when I talk to you,” Mando says slowly, talking down at you as if you were a child that didn’t know any better. “Got it?”

“Yes,” you say, voice barely above a whisper. Mando hums, bringing his other hand around to hold your waist, rubbing his thumb over your hip bone, content on watching you squirm for a few moments. 

“You’re not getting away with disobedience that easily,” he finally says. He trails the hand cupping your face until he’s holding the back of your neck in a grounding grip. “You never learn, do you?” and there’s that soft affectionate tone that’s so out of place for this setting. A deep, primal part of you wants to please him. 

“I’ll learn,” you whimper.

“You want to be a good girl, don’t you?” Mando asks, tightening his hold on you the slightest. “Wanna make me happy?” 

“Yes,” you breathe, leaning into his grip. Mando grinds into you, and you part your legs enough for his cock to nestle between your thighs. He gives an appreciative groan, rocking his hips back and forth between the soft flesh. Mando pulls out enough that the tip stays caught between your thighs, and when he pushes back in, it nudges you clit in a delicious way. “Anything.” You would bend over backwards if it meant it would please him. Mando groans when you flex your legs.

“Anything, hm?”

He steps back enough that you don’t feel as crowded, but it also means his cock slips out from between your thighs and you lose his warmth.

“Then  _ beg _ .”

His voice drops an octave, and the effect it has is devastating. You lick your lips. “Please,” you whisper weakly. The gaze Mando gives you for your performance is nothing short of criticizing.  _ Maker _ , you don’t think you’ve ever felt this embarrassed in your life. Not even when Mando was basically fucking your face. At least then, you had some power; the way Mando nearly lost control was a testament to that. You start to feel Mando prepare to move back. “Please,” you repeat, stronger this time, more confidently, and he stops pulling away. If Mando could ask you to beg, you can ask Mando to give you what you want. Should be easy.

You’d let him do anything to you at this point, really. 

“Please fuck me,” you plead. 

“With what, sweet girl?” Mando asks. “Will my fingers be enough?” His fingers skim down your side and your thigh, toying with you. You shake your head. 

“Fuck me with your cock,” you whimper, and the words start tumbling. In for a chit, in for a credit. “Please, I… I’ve been thinking about it for so long, your cock in me, I-- fuck, Mando, I need it.” You try to get closer to him as much as you can with the cuffs still around the pole. Much to your surprise, Mando  _ laughs _ . He brings himself closer to you again, pinning you against the wall, and looks down at you. 

“I know you do,” he says. “I hear you, touching yourself,” he purrs, “when you think I’m asleep. Moaning my name like some common  _ whore _ .” Mando’s hand comes up to squish your cheeks together, and he turns your head back and forth as if he were inspecting some rare item. “So indecently.” He lets go of your face, and plunges two of his fingers into you without warning, drawing a weak cry from you. You think you’re about to explode. “I’ve thought about coming down to try and catch you, you know,” he continues, almost to himself, curling his fingers in your cunt and bringing his thumb to rub at your clit. You just need a little more to push yourself off the edge. “Just as you’re about to cum. I’d love to see your face when you realize I’ve been watching while you’ve been thinking about me.” He brings his other to hold his cock, stroking it and smearing precum around the head. Mando’s voice is low and rumbling, and you can pick out the vibrations just from how close you are. You know that he can feel you clenching around his fingers, slick dripping down into his palm from how wet you are. 

“You close?” he asks. You swallow. If you say yes, you already know he’ll stop. On the other hand, if you deny it, you might cum, but the repercussions would be tenfold. 

You still can’t lie to him. 

“Mando--” 

“I only reward those who have been good,” Mando says. He tilts his head and makes sure you’re directly looking at him. He shakes his head almost imperceptibly, and slips his fingers out like the devil personified, leaving you feeling empty. “And I don’t think you’ve been a very good girl.”

“But I will,” you interject desperately. You don’t want Mando to leave you aching and wanting for a second time, and you feel tears prick at the corner of your eyes. “I’ll be good. I promise.” There’s a few moments of silence as your words hang in the air and Mando considers your words. He tilts his head closer to you, and if it weren’t for the damned helmet, you could kiss him. 

“Then you should’ve thought of that before you started touching yourself,” he says simply, and pulls all the way away, tucking himself into his pants, still hard, and re-buckles his belt, wiping his fingers on his pants. 

“What?!” you cry out, and attempt to reach for him, only to be yanked back by the cuff around your other hand. “Mando, you can’t--”

“You’re in no position to tell me what I can and cannot do,” he interrupts. He takes a seat in the pilot’s chair and swivels back around so he faces away from you. 

“But Mando,” you whine. “I’m… I still wanna cum.” You know you’re pouting, and you would probably stomp your foot down too if your legs weren’t so wobbly. Mando gives you a condescending laugh that makes your ears burn more than ever. 

“You still have a free hand,” he says over his shoulder. “Do it yourself.”


End file.
